


A New Present

by Siver



Category: Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective
Genre: Family, Friendship, Gen, Post Game, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2018-10-20 00:55:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 9,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10651629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siver/pseuds/Siver
Summary: Everyone was saved. A new present was born. Collecting scenes of the Jowd family and extended family. They're all one big family. Chapters follow a similar theme of new timeline shenanigans and family fun (or not so fun as case may be) times, but are otherwise not directly connected or in particular order, though there may be some common threads that flow through such as Jowd and Sissel suspicions and memory uncertainties.





	1. Sick Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cabanela is stuck sick at the Jowd household with only a certain cat for company. Small cares from unexpected places.

Mornings were the time to spring into action. A new day, new exciting things. Usually. Cabanela was vaguely aware of a voice. He was more aware of the ache in his shoulders and the fire in his throat. A few seconds later the pounding throb of his head joined the litany of his body’s complaints.

With effort he cracked his eyes open to see Jowd looking over the couch at him.

“And that confirms it,” he said. “I haven’t seen you look this bad since the great hangov-“

“Don’t,” Cabanela croaked. Some things did not bear remembering, especially currently and especially things that happened a _very_ long time ago, thank you very much. Jerk.

Jowd gave a low chuckle. The bastard. “I’ll inform the Chief of your absence.”

“Just giiive me a minute.” Cabanela tried to push himself up and sagged back as the room turned gentle circles around him.

“As I said,” Jowd said dryly, “I’ll let the Chief know.”

Cabanela made a muffled grumbling noise before he could actually decide which disparaging remark to make and cast an arm over his eyes. He heard Jowd leave, muffled voices then a click of something on the table. He peered out from under his arm to see a cup on the table.

“We’ll be back this evening,” Jowd said and left the room.

He wasn’t sure if he’d dozed off again after that or not, but he was awake now and possibly feeling even more disgusting, disgusted certainly. He remembered the cup Jowd left and tried to reach out to grab it. Just out of reach, typical.

 _Or you could use those brilliant deductive skills and sit up._ He stared at the cup. The room was still doing its best to spin away. He sunk deeper into his pillow. The act of sitting felt like an obscene amount of effort at this point. It could wait.

He spared a glance toward Sissel who was in his customary spot on the back of the couch. “Dooon’t suppose you could fetch that? Ha,” Cabanela muttered and then wished he hadn’t. It hurt to talk.

Sissel meowed once and seemed to settle in more deeply into the couch. So much for that, but what had he been expecting?

Cabanela shivered, pulled the blanket tighter around himself and tried to fall asleep again cursing whatever brought on this gods forsaken flu. As he drifted off he became vaguely aware of a quiet scraping sound. But his eyes seemed to have become heavy weights and he slipped into sleep before he could investigate.

When he awoke again his throat burned with the added pleasantry of feeling parched. Without thinking he reached out and his fingers closed around the cup. It wasn’t until he drank half the water that he remembered his first attempt. He gave the cup a muzzy look. Had he gotten closer? Was it not as far as it had seemed? A magical moving cup? How convenient. What secrets lay in those cupboards of yours, Jowd? He set the cup down carefully. Something to think about later when it didn’t feel like his skull was trying to compress and cook his brain out.

The house was silent. Nearly. He was alone with no company except for Sissel and his feline companion seemed to have wandered off somewhere. The only sound was the ticking of the clock. He hated it. Clocks always seemed too loud on the rare occasion he was ill as if to remind him of the time being wasted stuck in bed.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

He tried to ignore it.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

He gave it a glare that would have stopped it dead if he had such a power. He waved a hand vaguely.

“If I could I’d stooop you riiight there. A stopped clock that’s your fate. If I couuuld,” he mumbled with all the threatening power of a limp rag.

Technically he could, he thought. There was nothing stopping him, except getting up. And pulling it down. And fumbling with the mechanism… and Alma’s frown and… sigh.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Groan.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

He covered his ears with his pillow.

Tick. Tick. …

Blink. Silence. Real silence. He let the pillow fall back and squinted at the clock. The second hand was stopped. Iiinteresting timing. He stared at it, daring it to resume. It didn’t. Well, good.

He tried to settle into something vaguely approximating comfort. Draw legs up against the ache. Not helpful, too warm and, oh yes, there was the coughing fit. He sagged into a sprawl: not especially helpful either and now too cold. Instead, he cautiously sat up. The room refrained from doing its best impression of a carousel. That was a small plus, a very small plus. His fingers dug into his temples. Painkillers. More water. He swung himself off the couch, swayed, scooped the cup up and staggered into the kitchen. The cup was dropped into the sink for a refill and he stared into the medicine cupboard.

His stomach lurched. No… He took a slow breath, steadied himself against the counter. No, no. Not now, but the sickly feeling was crawling up his throat. He could feel the tight warmth in his face. He clapped one hand over his mouth, cringing at the feel of his own clamminess. He swallowed hard. His knuckles went white against the counter.

Sissel peered up from his corner of the kitchen as Cabanela bolted from the room.

The tub was soothingly cool against Cabanela’s back as he half sat half lay against it, carefully avoiding looking at the toilet. Satisfied that he was done, (he had to be finished, what more was there to give?) he finally shakily pulled himself up. Water was sounding better and better.

The cup still stood in the kitchen sink, but was full. Had he filled it already? He didn’t think so, but maybe he’d done it without thinking. He remembered its apparent move. Hmm.

He fetched and downed a pill and made his way slowly back to the living room. His eye caught on Sissel who was loafing on the heater. So that’s where he’d gone off to. Sissel gave him a slow blink, but otherwise appeared to ignore him. Yet, Cabanela couldn’t shake the feeling he was being watched until he was out of the hall.

He slumped back into the couch. At this point even he had to admit sleeping the wretched day away seemed as good an idea as any. The coughing fits had other plans. He felt the cushions dip. Sissel padded alongside him then to his surprise climbed up onto his chest.

“Since wheeen…?” He’d only ever seen Sissel on Jowd. He was Jowd’s cat. Final. He coughed again expecting that to dislodge the cat. Sissel only curled up, still hot from the heater and settled in. He started to purr.

Strange cup things. Stopped clock. Perpetually weird cat and a brain too addled to give it proper thought. Add it all to the think-about-later list. Sissel’s warmth and purr lulled him into sleep.

When Jowd returned he was only a little surprised to find Cabanela sound asleep. He had half expected him to be stubbornly up, or less likely, already feeling some improvement. He was more surprised to find Sissel curled up on his chest. He crept over and lightly brushed his hand over Sissel’s fur.

“You’ve gone cold,” he whispered.

Sissel’s ears pricked. He rose carefully and with a bob of his head at Jowd gently hopped off and trotted away.

Cabanela’s eyes fluttered open and he stared at Jowd sleepily.

“Good evening,” Jowd said. “How are you feeling?”

A disgusted sound in reply followed by a glance down at where Sissel had been. He looked thoughtful in a dazed sort of way then looked back at Jowd. “Your cat’s weeeird,” he said.

Jowd could only chuckle. “Aren’t they all?”

As he left the room, after making sure Cabanela had anything he needed, he wondered what the odds were that Cabanela had been too sick to pay much heed to any weirdness Sissel may have caused. Not good in all likelihood. He made a note to talk to Sissel about anything he might have to explain away.


	2. Of Ice Cream & Pomeranians

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a small ice cream outing is had with Kamila, Lynne, Cabanela and Missile. Odd tastes in ice cream and a spoiled pup.

It was a warm day well on its way to becoming a hot one. The sun was shining bright and Lynne and Kamila were armed with ice cream cones and a large shady tree over their bench. It hadn’t been Lynne’s original plan. She’d only left her apartment to take Missile for a walk. That plan was dashed, danced upon and buried by the arrival of a certain bicycle bearing both Cabanela and Kamila balancing somewhat precariously on the seat. Before any form of protest could be made one way or another Lynne found herself whisked away for an ice cream outing.

Kamila’s legs dangled off the bench and she swung them, slurping at her ice cream. “Strawberry is the best,” she said happily. She looked curiously at Lynne sitting beside her. “Is chocolate your favourite?”

“Gotta like the classics, you know?” she replied.

“Biiit lacking in imagination, baby,” Cabanela slung himself onto the bench beside Lynne. She and Kamila both eyed the multi-coloured, multilayered – concoction if Lynne was going to be polite, monstrosity more like it, she thought – that was on his cone. How many flavours could be put on one cone? It was a question Cabanela was clearly putting to the test.

“Mix it up a little!”

_A little?_

“Like…strawberry and vanilla?” Kamila asked, eyeing his ice cream curiously.

“If you haaave your father’s imagination.”

Lynne gave her ice cream cone a thoughtful look. “I wonder what chicken flavoured ice cream would be like.”

“I’m surrouuunded,” Cabanela groaned.

“Two good things!” Lynne protested. Three things if she counted Cabanela’s reaction. She bent down to scratch Missile behind the ears. “Isn’t that right?”

Missile barked and wagged his tail furiously.

“Ah, that remiiinds me,” Cabanela said. Lynne eyed his towering ice cream nervously as it was lifted high while Cabanela reached into his coat to pull out a small bag of dog treats. Not just any treats either, Lynne noted, but the highest quality. He tossed a couple down to Missile.

“You spoil him,” Lynne said.

“Not niiice to leave anyone out.”

“And he loves them, don’t you, boy?” Kamila said.

Missile’s tail blurred as he gobbled down the treats then he bounded around Cabanela’s legs before trotting over to sit at Kamila’s feet.  

Lynne puffed out a sigh. “Between you two I’m surprised I even still own a dog!”


	3. Test

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Detective support? Suuure no problem. Fashion? You got it, baby.  
> Young girl with school test troubles? A liiitle outside his depths but when you've somehow wound up with two pets and a kid in your care you do what you can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bit that actually started this whole thing and came from a prompt I randomly generated for myself that gave me Kamila, Cabanela and shame and I didn't feel like doing anything very heavy with it.

Cabanela was trapped and felt a bit vague on how he let himself get into this situation. The cat was curled up near his head on the sofa back - though not too near, never too near, Cabanela had come to notice. Missile was parked on his lap in a tight ball, his tail occasionally tapping against his leg. He meant to be babysitting Kamila until late evening. Somehow that turned into pet sitting as well. Lynne was out of town and so the Jowd family were taking care of Missile and he let himself get roped into taking care of the whole bunch. Well, the dog and child. Sissel in true cat fashion, could be left to his own devices and seemed quite content to be so more often than not.

He was here for Kamila until late evening, but Kamila went straight to her room when she returned from school and had shut out Missile, so here he was stuck under the sleepy Pomeranian. He did harbour a small amount of concern. Kamila was quiet and seemed a bit down, but said nothing when pressed. Like father like daughter. He could only chalk it up to a bad day and left it at that.

Missile’s ears perked and he suddenly sat up tail wagging harder, front paws digging into Cabanela’s chest, back paws digging even deeper into his thighs. Cabanela awkwardly tilted his head back over the couch to see what caught Missile’s attention while trying to hold the excited dog before he vibrated a hole into him.

Kamila stood back looking awkward and worried.

“Something wrooong, kiddo?”

“Mm…” she went around the couch and flopped onto it beside Cabanela. Missile immediately flung himself at her and was rewarded with petting.  She kept her gaze fixed on the wriggling dog. “I tried really, really hard and I practiced lots, I really did. They’re gonna be mad…”

“Whoah now. What’s this all abouuut?”

“I failed a math test,” she muttered.

Cabanela bit back a smile. Was that all?

“I tried. I promise I tried. I should’ve done better. We have to make corrections and I still can’t fix it. I don’t get it! AND we have to get them signed.” She bit her lip and finished in a whisper, “I don’t want them to know.”

Hoo boy. Cabanela felt a little out of his depth here, but there was one thing he knew. “They’re not going to be mad at you. Have they ever gotten mad at you over it before?” Was Jowd capable of being angry with the girl?

She shook her head. “I’ve never done badly before…”

 _Ah._ “Well,” Cabanela said brightly, “gettin’ your fiiirst time out of the way now’s a good start.”

Kamila looked startled and confused. “What?”

“One little test! You’ll probably forgeeet it even happened. Doesn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things. You’re still learnin’.”

“Dad always knows what he’s doing,” she muttered.

Cabanela snorted, “Ha! Hardly and don’t tell him that either. It’ll go straight to that cuuurly mop covered thing he calls a head.”

Kamila giggled a bit and Cabanela grinned.

“What about you?” she asked hesitantly.

He waved a hand airily, “Eeeven me,” but certain things were definitely not for discussion here and now. “And your mom! If she gives you trouble ask her about eleeeventh grade chemistry. Just don’t tell her I told you.” He winked and Kamila brightened up.

“Nooow, how about that test? I can heeelp you out. No point wastin’ your whole day on it.”

Kamila hopped off the couch. “Okay!” She darted out of the living room with Missile following close behind.

When Jowd and Alma returned it was to find Cabanela and Kamila engaged in a late evening baking spree. The test lay complete, but forgotten on one end of the table obscured by ingredients and bowls. Some ills were best cured with cookies and on further investigation, elaborately decorated cupcakes.


	4. The Ghost Wasn't Necessary

Cabanela dragged a hand over his face. The words were starting to swim like the dregs of his coffee and he was no closer to an answer. He glanced at the clock. It was well past an hour that could be called reasonable. As if to remind him of that fact the twinge in his ribs was growing more insistent. He brushed his hand over his other arm, stuck in a sling, and determined to join in his body’s complaints. If he never had a fall like the one that landed him here again it would be too soon.

A rattle caught his attention and his eyes narrowed at the bottle of pain medication sitting in his still open drawer: his payment for being allowed here. A quick search through his memory and a count back of hours told him it was time.

“How long have you been here, Sissel?” he asked as he unscrewed the lid. A pen rolled. “Haaang on.” He downed the pills with a grimace before reaching out to pull a notebook and the pen across his desk.

 He watched as he let the pen guide his hand.

“ _Jowd left me. Thought you could use the company.”_

Cabanela frowned. “Your powers are more helpful out there than following paper trails. Why are you reaaally here?”

The pen wobbled, started to move, then stopped.

“Ouuut with it.”

_“Asked me to keep an eye on you.”_

He did, did he? Damn the man. As much as Cabanela wanted to he wasn’t going anywhere, and Jowd had a higher possibility of being in danger than him.

The pen tugged and he loosened his grip.

_“Need to talk?”_

“Have some information on who our supplier is?”

_“No. Is that what Detective Jowd is trying to do tonight?”_

“Beeest case scenario. Most likely? We get some more flunkies.”

_“Can I help?”_

Help from the ghost of a dead cat. “What a taaangled web of weirdness our lives weave.”

The pen wavered. _“Inspector?”_

Cabanela let the pen drop to pinch the space between his eyes. The pain meds were kicking in to combine with a lack of sleep for a delightful mass of enigmatic fuzz. Kind of like the cat, he thought muzzily.

“You could go help Jowd,” he said, picking up the pen once more.

_“No phone. Not sure where he is now anyway.”_

Useful powers, but limited nonetheless. A pity.

Cabanela gestured at his mess of files. “Files are all yours to read if you can make any seeense of them.”

_“Are you sure you shouldn’t sleep? Look ready to fall over.”_

Thanks cat. Cabanela dropped the pen again to spread out more files. His mug gave a small wiggle. He moved it to a position he judged would allow Sissel to see and tried to focus his blurring vision on the report.

“We’re missin’ somethin’,” he said thickly after a time of trying to force the words into his brain. “Missin’ a connection, more’n’what Jowd’s gonna find tonight if my gut’s anythin’ to go by. Aaalways trust your instincts, baby.”

He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. Try to line the facts up, hold ‘em in place before they danced off. Names floated by. Names, places, one hell of a nasty drug, a mysterious face shrouded in a cloak of darkness in his mind’s eye. Clues flying away on wings of mystery. Let them move, follow the connections, fast as, ha, as a ghost. … or slow as a thick layer of mud... slow and about as clear…

He sunk into a pool of darkness with visions of grey blurry shapes, colourful capsules and flashing threads winding through it all to snap and reconnect while a pressure kept him from reaching to grab hold of any of them. There were answers out there he knew, if he could just reach out, could keep up the chase...

When Jowd returned to the office the next morning it was dark, so it was with some surprise (not much when it came to his partner) that he found Cabanela asleep at his desk when he turned the light on. The blinds were closed over the window. The coffee pot was on and filling up. Cabanela’s coat that he knew he had draped over the back of his chair was half over him in a clumsy attempt at a blanket. The note book with one half of a conversation still lay open.

Jowd smiled. “Thanks Sissel,” he murmured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't supposed to happen. I'm part way into an Alma, Jowd and Sissel chapter and nearly finished a Lynne, Kamila and some Jowd chapter.  
> But nooo this had to spring into being instead.


	5. Nightmares

Lynne bolted upright at a scream. _Kamila_. She shot out of bed and stumbled down the small hall to the extra bedroom. The door was open and she fumbled for the light switch. Kamila sat in her bed, blanket clutched, eyes wide and tears streaming down her face. Missile sat beside her and nudged at her, but she wasn’t paying him any attention.

“Kamila, what’s wrong?” Lynne asked, stunned.

Kamila only let out a sob. Lynne sat on the edge of her bed and reached out to hold her shoulder. She was trembling.

“Nightmare?”

Nod.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Kamila’s lip wobbled and a fresh wave of tears flowed. Lynne bit her lip. Not the reaction she was hoping for. She pulled the girl into a hug. Kamila clung to her.

“You’re okay. Everything is okay.”

“S-so… so dark, so sc-sc…” Kamila’s voice cracked and she buried her face in Lynne’s shoulder.

Lynne rubbed her back soothingly. “You’re safe, I promise.” Kamila only continued to cry into her shirt. What else could she say? Kamila was trembling against her. She’d never seen her so scared. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

“I don’t want to be alone,” Kamila choked out.

“Aw sweetie, you’re not alone I promise. I’m here. Missile’s here.” At that Missile gave a small bark and wagged his tail furiously. “And your mom and dad are at home.” She blinked when Kamila let loose another sob. Had she said the wrong thing? She bit her lip. Now what?

Maybe he would be better at this. It was late, but she had a feeling he wouldn’t mind in the slightest for this. “Do you want to call your dad?”

Kamila nodded against her and pulled away. She followed close behind Lynne to the phone and stood near, staring at the floor and wringing her hands.

Lynne glanced at the clock with a wince. It really was late, getting closer to being early, but she was at a loss. She dialed the number.

Less rings than she expected passed by before Jowd’s voice, gruff with sleepiness came over the line.

“Hello?”

“Hi, it’s Lynne. I’m really sorry to wake you.”

A note of urgency crept into Jowd’s voice. “What’s wrong? Is Kamila all right?”

“Ah yeah, yeah, yeah! But, she had a bad nightmare and is really upset. She wanted to talk to you.”

“I see. Put her on.”

Lynne passed the phone to Kamila and stepped back.

“Dad?” A pause. “Yeah… I’m scared, dad… yeah… w-what about m-m-mom? D-dad?” There was a much longer pause and Lynne was about to say something. Did the line die? Then Kamila nodded. “O-okay… Um… I…” Her next words came out in a rush. “I don’t want to go to the beach next week. Please can I stay?”

Lynne gave her a startled look. She knew she’d been excited for it. Now she sounded terrified at the prospect.

“I know, but I-I… it was so dark, dark and cold and we were trapped under, under the water and there was… under the water, I don’t want to…” She took a deep breath and whispered, “There was something in the dark…” Another pause and Lynne shifted uncomfortably feeling a chill at those words. Why did it feel like there was something vaguely familiar about that? She rubbed her eyes. Just late and sleepy. That had to be all.

“Thank you…” Kamila continued. She looked at Lynne. “Yeah I do. Okay… Yeah. Okay… good night dad. Love you.” She held out the phone to Lynne. “Dad wants to talk to you.”

Lynne pulled herself together and took the phone. “Hi.”

“Thank you for calling, Lynne.”

“Honestly I didn’t know what to do anyway.”

“She still wants to stay with you tomorrow. Is that all right?”

“Of course!” She gave Kamila a quick glance. Kamila perched on the couch waiting. “Is she okay?”

Jowd sounded more serious. “Yes. Call me again if anything happens.”

“Yes sir.”

There was a pause and she thought she heard him sigh, then, “And are you all right, Lynne?”

“I’m okay!” she said, suppressing a yawn. Of course she was. It was nothing, nothing she’d be able to put words to anyway.

“Good,” he replied softly enough that she almost wondered if he meant her to hear it. “Good night, Lynne.”

Lynne hung up and turned back to Kamila. Before she could say anything Kamila spoke up. “Can we stay out here a little longer? Please?”

Lynne dropped onto the couch beside her. “Sure.”

Kamila toyed with the edges of her sleeve, opened her mouth then closed it.

“What’s wrong?” Lynne prompted.

“Um… do you… do you ever? Ah… I dreamt you were there too. At least… I think so. We were together, but trapped.”

“It was just a dream. Dreams are weird, right?” Just a dream, just a dream.

“Yeah…” But Kamila sounded uncertain. Lynne chewed her lip. She wasn’t exactly feeling certain herself either, but she couldn’t think why.

“But… it felt so real. I can still remember it… well sort of. We were in a dark room and there was water and we couldn’t get out.” She moved her hands as though trying to form a shape out of air. “There was a shape in the dark and…” Kamila’s brow furrowed.

Again Lynne had to suppress a shiver. “It’s late, but do you want to watch something for a bit before we try sleeping again?” Kamila had seemed to calm down a bit, but Lynne felt on edge. If she went to bed now, she felt like she’d be joining in the land of nightmares if she could sleep at all.

Kamila gave a fervent nod and snuggled into the couch. Lynne fetched one of her blankets and tossed it over the pair of them after putting a movie in.

They lasted for part of the film, but the next morning found them in a sleepy tangle of couch, blanket and pomeranian after a more restful and peaceful half of the night.

The next day and night passed without incident and Lynne tried to put it all out of her mind hoping that would be the end of it.

Just a dream. Just a dream.


	6. Raindrops on Stone

Alma was most decidedly not a night owl. Let her husband and their friend see the hours of the night no person should be forced to see. So, it was with some displeasure she woke up in the darkness at a time she would have preferred not to have known.

Her displeasure faded to the worry and confusion that had become a regular part of her days. She could dimly see Jowd’s shape sitting up in the dark. She joined him and lightly touched his arm.

“Nightmares again?” she asked softly.

“I don’t recall,” he said in a voice that sounded far too neutral.

Her heart would have sunk if it didn’t feel like that was its default position these days. Lies again.

“Something is bothering you,” she tried.

“Everything is fine.”

_Then why does it feel like I’ve lost a part of you? Why does it feel like you’ve lost me? I’m right here, love, always._ The words stuck in her throat. She wondered what would happen if she could say them? What would be worse: denial or answers?

“You should go back to sleep,” Jowd said.

As if she could right now. She gripped the blanket hard. “I wish you’d talk to me. Like you used to.” That was pushing it admittedly. He was never talkative, but compared to now he’d practically been a babbling brook. That brook had been drained dry and filled with concrete for all the reaction she could get out of him.

He sighed and Alma felt a triumphant bitterness at that small token of life.

“There’s nothing to talk about. What am I supposed to say?”

“What about parks? How about a bad day and stray cats?” Part of her felt foolish. What part could a little black kitten play in all this, yet she couldn’t shake the feeling he was somehow tied up in everything, whatever that everything was. Besides, as Cabanela would say instinct was better than any ooold roadmap when you’re stuck in the fog and currently she felt as though no fog was as obscure as her husband.

She heard that false smile in his voice, another wall wrapped up neatly in a poor attempt at good humour. “I didn’t think that day was exciting enough for another retelling,” Jowd said. And, now came the all too familiar self-deprecation. “Hardly my finest moment. How about another tale?”

“The truth,” she murmured and was met with silence. Door slammed and locked up tight. It was her turn to sigh. “But, I’ll take the tale of eking out a bit more sleep,” she added unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice. Too damn late to pick a fight, too damn early to get up and try to forget about it. And, what were the odds on forgetting? She sunk into her pillow. Discussion ended before it really began as usual. She closed her eyes to Jowd still sitting, an immutable rock, one who had been her rock, but now had all the distance of a mountain peak.

When Alma awoke again, for a moment the space beside her felt empty and she felt a pit of fear in her stomach. Had she gone too far? Then a warm hand slid over hers, comforting, _present_. She let her eyes fall shut and turned her hand to hold onto his. Getting up could wait. For now she wanted nothing more than to bask in this real connection, a hold that didn’t make her feel like glass, a hold that made her feel like she was here and not about to vanish the moment he let go, a hold that didn’t leave her with more questions than answers.

Nothing was solved, not even remotely. For now she would take what she could get in this long war of attrition.


	7. No More Lies

Cabanela leaned against the window sill, looking out without seeing much. He tried to relax. He was in his favourite place. Alma was here. Jowd would return shortly. Everything was… well. Maybe not quite right, but well enough. All present and accounted for, yes. And, if he was more tired than he was accustomed to, it was nothing some good cheer and good company couldn’t fix.

An arm wrapped around his companionably. He looked down to see Alma looking up at him, concern in her eyes.

“Something’s been bothering you,” she said.

The blunt approach, eh? How much had he let slip lately? He couldn’t fault her for trying and gods only knew it was pointless against a certain other someone. Still, what was he to say?

Every night I dream of your death. Every night there are secrets and lies and the knowledge that everything went wrong.

Every morning (if a generous term sometimes) I feel a terrible urgency to do something and I have no idea what that something is?

I’m worried for Jowd. I’m angry at Jowd. I fear for Jowd. I have no idea why. He’s fine. He’s not?

He gave her a broad grin. “Only wonderin’ how I’ll get ahead on this next case. Can’t let Jowd get all the victories,” he replied cheerfully. “Neither of our egos need that hit!”

Alma’s lips curved with a laugh that didn’t reach her eyes. “Oh I’m sure yours wouldn’t even notice,” she said lightly. “And Jowd…” her laughter faded to a frown. “Maybe he could use some kind of boost.”

Jowd. Cabanela couldn’t disagree there, exactly. He needed something, but what that was was beyond him. There was something wrong, something stunk and Jowd could bury it all he wanted but he couldn’t cover it up.

As for his own concerns, well, what were a few night time troubles? He had far more enjoyable things to occupy his time with and a far more difficult nut to crack in Jowd.

Alma’s arm slipped away from his. She stood straight, arms crossed over her chest and her face wore a look most serious – one that spelled trouble.

“I wish you would talk. How you can both be so different yet so very much alike is beyond me.”

“Baby, if I had answers to Jowd, I’d spill ‘em and serve him riiight. He’s left me in the dark too.”

“I’m not just talking about Jowd. I trust you with him.” Her brows knit in a stern frown. “You, on the other hand… You think you can just wave it all away, dance it off like nothing ever matters, don’t you? Pretend like nothing’s wrong like we wouldn’t notice?”

Cabanela kept his gaze focused on the window, suddenly unable to bring himself to face her. “I have nooo idea what you’re talkin’ about, baby.” The sudden clenching in his chest told another story.

Alma reached around, cupped his cheek, and firmly turned his face to hers.

“Enough,” she said and the slight tremble in her voice told him she was trying not to yell. “That’s enough. I don’t know why you have to feel so damn invincible all the time, or how you think you can hide from us when we _know_ you, but I’m sick of it. I’m sick of standing on the outside wondering which of you will crack first. I’m sick of knowing we should be holding each other together, not wondering when I’ll have to clean up broken pieces!” She prodded his chest with each word. “All because you won’t say. A. Damn. Thing.”

“Alma… I don’t know what I _can_ say.”

“The truth.”

He stared at her. You’re alive and here but sometimes I feel like you shouldn’t… no never shouldn’t. Aren’t.

A missing link.

An impossible question.

A pale face on an autopsist’s table.

He swallowed the rising ill feeling. She was right here, a hand still planted firmly against his chest.

Alma’s eyes narrowed and it took him a moment to realize it wasn’t in anger but pain.

“And that,” she said. “That look you both give me. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. Why…?”

“I don’t know,” he started to say.

“Enough!”

“No.” He covered her hand with his. She was here. She was here. “I mean it. I really don’t know. If I didn’t know any better I’d start to wonder if I was losin’ my mind. I know what is, but sometimes I feel like I’m rememberin’ another life entirely.” His hands dropped to his sides. “Never enough to make sense of any of it, but enough to know something went terribly wrong. That Jowd was in trouble and you… were dead.”

He was finding it difficult to look at her again, to see only her and not a grave. Her eyes were wide; her anger faded to worry and confusion. Cabanela’s eyes felt wet. He blinked it back. 

Alma wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace.

“I’m here. We’re both here and we’re okay.”

He returned her hug and held her close. He could feel her heartbeat, more rapid than it should be, but then his own felt fit to burst out of his chest as well.

“We’ll figure it out,” she said. “We’ll figure it all out. If you’re feeling this way… maybe Jowd is too. Maybe there’s a connection.”

“Playin’ detective now?” Cabanela said. Did his voice sound as weak as it did to his own ears?

She squeezed him. “Someone has to with you two.”

She leaned back a bit to look up at him, but maintained her hold. “Something happened. Something changed. I know there’s more to this. Something between you two.” Her glance flicked to the kitchen entrance where Sissel had been. “And maybe not just you either.”

“Jowd’s holding one biiig secret,” Cabanela said.

Alma nodded. “We’ll get him to spill. And get answers for you as well.”

Cabanela managed a small smile. “Did you try this on him too?”

She bit her lip and looked down. “Not exactly, but it… didn’t go well.”

“He can’t hold ouuut forever.”

“He won’t. And you… you talk to me when you need to, okay? No more trying to face it all alone. We’re a team, yeah?”

“Of couuurse, baby.” 

The secrets would come out. And, regardless of whatever answers came to light he would keep them safe. 

Alma leaned back into their hug. “Thank you… thank you.”


	8. Husband, Partner, Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some short, pure fluff

Jowd was used to being trapped on the couch. He wasn’t used to going this long without someone making a comment or cracking a joke at the terrible movie’s expense.

He glanced down at Alma who was curled up beside him against his shoulder. She appeared to be sound asleep, a peaceful smile on her face.

He cautiously leaned forward a bit, so as not to disturb her or the legs draped across his lap. Cabanela was using the arm rest as a pillow, one arm dangling over it and looking as asleep as Alma. Not quite their original plan to unwind after the several long days they’d all had, but this worked too, he supposed.

Now he was faced with another puzzle: how to take Alma to bed without waking either too much. It wouldn’t be difficult if he didn’t have Cabanela’s legs to extricate himself from. Very slowly he managed to slide out from under Cabanela, get an arm around Alma with only one muffled sound from her and to his surprise not a stir from Cabanela.

It wasn’t until he lifted Alma that she gave him a slow bleary blink.

“Mm what?”

“Shh, go back to sleep,” Jowd whispered.

She made a contented humming noise and nestled her head into his shoulder. He carried her upstairs and gently laid her on their bed. He pulled the blanket up over her.

“Love you, hun,” she mumbled sleepily.

He kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll be back up soon,” he said.

“Mhmm…”

Jowd went back downstairs pausing only to grab another blanket. Once down he turned the TV off and turned his attention to Cabanela. He still hadn’t moved. How that draping, dangling sprawl was comfortable was beyond Jowd, but it appeared to work for him. He placed the blanket over him and it wasn’t until he started to leave that Cabanela spoke, words slightly slurred with sleep.

“Playin’ the gentleman… who kneeew?”

“A one-time occurrence if you keep that up.”

“Mmhmmm…”

Jowd shook his head and left the living room to return upstairs.  

He stopped again to peek in on Kamila. She appeared asleep with Sissel curled up beside her. Those last few nights trying to stay up reading looked to have caught up he thought with an amused smile. He noticed her plush dog had fallen off her bed. He walked in softly on years of practice and returned the dog to her side with a kiss to her cheek.

Back out in the hall Jowd found himself pausing once more as the last several minutes replayed themselves. It still caught him off guard sometimes that he had all this and more back. It wasn’t until he returned to it all that he fully realized how much he buried away as deeply as he could and how greatly he’d missed all of this. This was his life again.

Jowd breathed out a contented sigh and went to rejoin Alma.


	9. A Restless Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If there's one thing Yomiel misses from his previous life and there's really not much to miss, it's not having to sleep so he wouldn't have to try

It was warm, dark and rain pattered gently against the window. The love of his life slept soundly beside him and Yomiel frowned into the darkness.

Sometimes he almost missed not having to sleep. Nights came to mean nothing and there wasn’t a constant wait for something that refused to come in the face of the chain of memories determined to plague him this night. No amount of seeing Sissel beside him brought reprieve. No amount of feeling his heartbeat reassured him. No amount of listening to Sissel’s breathing convinced him that this was real now and here to stay.

They ended that time. The dull ache in his legs brought on by the chill rains was a firm reminder of what they did that day. Yet still this turned into a night where the memories of another ten years played over and over again like a bad movie.

He rolled out of bed with a soft groan, careful not to disturb Sissel.

Yomiel wished he knew what he wanted when he entered their small kitchen. It would have given him something to focus on instead of staring at the tiles where the shades of her blood stood out, stark and vivid.

She was fine. He just left her sleeping peacefully on this gods-forsaken night. Part of him wanted to go wake her, reassure himself and talk, but that would lead to conversations he had no energy for. His glance passed over the phone. No, she wasn’t an option, but there was someone else who did understand, who stayed by his side, who he could spend the small hours of the morning with.

He stared at the phone as the urge to ask clashed with the unwillingness to make this particular call. The floor tile caught his eye again where her blood once pooled and his hand flew to the phone.

The voice on the other end was gruff and Yomiel almost hung up right there.

“Cabanela if this is you I swear,” came Jowd’s voice.

“It’s Yomiel.”

There was a pause then Jowd sounded more awake and serious. “This is unexpected. What’s wrong?”

The temptation to hang up grew stronger but he spoke, feeling small and annoyed at himself at the same time. “Nothing. Can you ask Sissel to come over?”

“I’ll track him down.”

“Thanks,” Yomiel grated out with a muttered sorry when the clock reminded him of the early hour.

“He’ll be there shortly,” Jowd said.

Yomiel hung up nearly dropping the phone, out of relief or anxiety he couldn’t say, and dropped into a chair. He’d be here shortly.

_Hello my friend._

“Sissel,” Yomiel breathed out. Old friend. Reminder. What was no longer existed, but he remained, the one good thing that came out of that mess of an old life. The night suddenly felt brighter.


	10. Once with the Family, Always with the Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Jowd family familial fluff with the Pigeon Man

When Jowd first brought Kamila to the junkyard he knew she would appreciate it and he hoped she’d come to like the professor. He didn’t expect her to latch to the poor man near immediately with shining eyes and a thousand questions.

If it weren’t for their respective jobs, school and distance he had a feeling she would frequent the junkyard far more often than not.

Now he sat by, sipping a coffee while observing the mass of bits and tools and blueprints sprawled across one table and Kamila with her hands full of her current project and a pencil between her teeth. The professor stood near her shoulder pointing out something beyond Jowd’s understanding on the blueprint while Kamila ardently nodded along. He could only assume Lovey-Dove sitting on the lone bare patch of table at the corner was conducting her supervisor-ly duties.

“An’ dat’ll… mmph.” Kamila took the pencil out. “And that’ll solve the weight problem?”

“You won’t know for sure until you try it. But don’t forget you’ll have to account for…?” the professor trailed off.

“The change in speed here, right?”

“That’s right.”

Jowd relaxed, letting their voices wash over him in a comforting hum. There was much that went wrong and much that needed repairing, but moments like these reminded him of how right everything was now.

Eventually, Kamila packed up, chattering happily about the project and other plans she had and could she come back soon, please?

Once her bag was full to the brim once more she flung her arms around the professor.

“Thank you so much! You’ll come to the science fair, won’t you?”

The professor looked caught off guard before awkwardly patting her on the back. “I’ll take a look.”

“I can’t wait!” Kamila exclaimed as she stepped back, beaming. Then she spun around, gave Lovey-Dove a gentle pat on the head, receiving a cheerful coo in response, and skipped out the door.

“Don’t go too far!” Jowd called.

“I won’t!”

Jowd rose. “Thanks for doing this.”

“She’s a good kid.”

“Oh, that’s right. Alma told me to ask you if you wanted to come for dinner at Christmas. I must remind you that Kamila and Cabanela are both aware of this, so you might as well spare yourself time and an invasion force. Her words.”

The professor snorted. “Seems I have little choice. Tell her I’ll be there.”

Of course Jowd was glad to hear it and while subtle he could hear the professor was pleased as well. It was only that he understood the element of choice unlike certain other people in his life (and yet they always managed to get their way anyway).

“I’ll let her know.”

Lovey-Dove fluttered off the table and returned to her perch on the Professor’s head. Jowd grinned at her.

“That’s goes for you too, Lovey.”

“Coo!”

“I’d better go make sure I still have a daughter out there. Talk soon.”

He exchanged a nod with the professor before leaving to make sure he hadn’t completely lost Kamila to the varied junk piles outside.


	11. Monsters

Alma had shown some improvement from her fever that morning and now that Jowd had returned home he had things well in hand. With any luck they were both asleep. Sleep that now seemed to be eluding Cabanela as he sprawled across his bed, staring into the darkness. He’d had the day off, but playing nurse to Alma had proved a good distraction. Now his thoughts were free to wander.

Alma’s birthday was coming and Jowd’s unease grew as it approached. “It’s going to be fiiine, baby,” he’d tried to reassure him and made a wave at Sissel. “And if you don’t belieeeve me just look at our furry feline friend here.”

Jowd had only nodded—discussion ended, but the old slump in his shoulders had returned to stay. And Jowd wasn’t the only one ill at ease. There was a vague sense of discomfort through the house and Cabanela could see the forced cheer at points around Kamila. She couldn’t know. She could never know. It didn’t stop her nightmares or the late nights he knew Jowd had with her.

A temporary dip, Cabanela was certain, and he planned to make sure that this time Alma’s birthday would be one to remember in only the best of ways.

In the meantime, he swung himself off the bed with the thought that tea and a meeting with the sofa were in order.

He stepped out into the dark hall and hardly made it a few steps before his name was called in a small voice.

“Cabs?”

He could just make out Kamila’s pale face as she stood in front of her room. The six year old approached, head bowed.

“Is dad sleeping?”

“Afraid so. Something wrong, kiddo?”

Her voice quivered. “Is mom okay?”

Ah. Was that it? “Nothing to worry about. She’s feelin’ pretty looousy right now, but she’ll be up and about in no time.”

“Okay…”

“Sooo, it’s time for the little ones to go back to bed.”

Kamila shook her head rapidly, and her hand rose to cover her mouth. Her words came out in a whispered rush between her fingers. “I’m scared. I had a really scary bad dream.”

And now Cabanela found himself greatly wishing that Jowd was up as well. If there was one job he was more than willing to concede to Jowd on… How best to go about this? Well, there was one sure-fire way.

“We can’t have that! Do you knooow what chases bad dreams away?

“Wh-what?”

He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “A suuuper special hot chocolate, nothing like it!”

“Really?”

“Come on!”

He stiffened as he felt her small fingers wrap around his. That wasn’t quite part of the plan. He forced himself to relax, but maybe just as well. He could run the place blind, but there was no need to get glared at by the cat for even risking the stairs. He could play guide.

They moved quietly down the stairs, he made a little hop at the last step earning a small if nervous sounding giggle from Kamila, then they made their way to the kitchen where he found the light switch. Kamila squinted against the sudden light and he caught sight of the dried tear stains. That wouldn’t do at all.

In one fluid motion he scooped her up onto the counter, suppressing a wince at the unexpected weight. She was already getting too tall for this and he lacked Jowd’s advantages.

Kamila’s eyes widened. “Mom said not to…”

“Ah,” Cabanela said, “but it’s all part of the speeell, see.” And with that he spun around to the cupboards and fridge to gather the necessary ingredients—only the proper way would do, nothing so simple as any old packaged mix.

He felt a bump against his leg as he heated milk, cocoa and sugar at the stove. Sissel looked up at him and the tilt of his head and flick of his tail toward Kamila was a clear question.

“Nothin’ to worry about, kitten,” Cabanela murmured.

Sissel meowed once, trotted over to the counter, jumped up and settled into Kamila’s lap.

Soon Cabanela had two mugs filled, with a dash of vanilla added and liberally topped off with cream and chocolate chips. He passed one to Kamila and hopped up onto the counter beside her with his own.

She drank some with a small coo of delight. When she finished she cupped her mug closer and stared down at Sissel.

“I was all by myself,” she said quietly. “There was a really loud bang and mom went away and dad wouldn’t say anything and it was cold. It was so cold and dark. I was crying and she wouldn’t come back and dad wouldn’t turn around. And then a big monster came and, and… and it took dad. It kept getting closer and it wouldn’t go away.” She put her mug down to wipe her eyes. “And mom and dad didn’t come back. I couldn’t stop crying and they wouldn’t come back, and it was really big and had really, really long arms and tried to grab me. It was so scary.”

Cabanela set his mug aside and stretched out his legs while trying to think of the best route to take. According to Jowd this was the year everything went wrong and the family’s behaviour had proved that. Was this particular dream related? Seemed likely, but best not to probe in that direction regardless.

“Dreaaams are silly things,” he finally said. “Do you know why?”

“Why?”

“Youuur mom and dad would never leave you.” Not this time, he thought to himself and never again. He waved a dismissive hand. “And your dad can take care of any old mooonster and if he couldn’t…” He trailed off before continuing grandly. “Well! I, for one, wouldn’t want to fight your mom.”

Kamila giggled a bit then shuddered and buried her hands in Sissel’s fur. “I hate it. I wanna be a grownup, so I don’t have bad dreams.”

He eyed her. Where did she get that idea?  “We still get ‘em too, kiddo.”

“But you’re a grown-up. You don’t get scared.”

He blinked. A looovely idea, but…

“And dad wouldn’t,” she said as if it was the truest fact in the world.

If only that were true. He could still clearly see Alma’s tired and worried face after the worst nights. They hadn’t been the most welcome of clues into the mystery that had been Jowd.

“Even he does,” he said.

She looked at him, wide-eyed. “But… Really? What about you?”

He stared at the stove without seeing it. The nightmares came and went. An endless chase for answers always just out of reach. Trapped, unable to move, wrapped in a terrible and nameless sense of dread. Left pinned to the bed, caught somewhere between sleeping and waking, in agony, only for reality to catch up and leave him breathing raggedly against nothing at all. Stopping his clock in the middle of a particularly bad night when the loud ticks were an unbearable reminder of the passing time for reasons he’d never be able to fully explain.

In some ways Jowd’s explanation had helped; the dreams were easier to deal with and forget about. In other ways, he had a feeling it had given his brain more fuel to work with, but he still wouldn’t have it any other way against the alternatives.

He caught Kamila’s eye and gave her a reassuring smile. “Sometimes I do too, but no matter how real they feel they’re not. You’re always safe and your mom and dad are always here for you.” He grinned at Sissel. “And our little kitten too!”

Kamila gave a wobbly smile. “But they’re scary. I wish I could just make the monsters go away. I wish I could make something and stop them.”

“Why nooot?”

She blinked at him. “What?”

“They’re your dreams. I beeet you could make anything. Show those monsters who’s really in chaaarge.”

“But they’re _monsters_.”

“Have you tried?”

She shook her head.

“No time like the present! Start thinkin’ of what you could build.”

“I could trap them,” she said fiercely after a quiet moment.

“That’s right!” And if she was thinking of her contraptions she wasn’t dwelling on her nightmares, a win-win situation—the best kind.

She yawned. “Do you think it’ll scare them away?”

“When they start seein’ how powerful you are? No douuubt about it.”

She smiled and rubbed her eyes. “I think I have ideas,” she said sleepily.

“That a girl. You keep those in mind and put ‘em to the test.”

“If I make a good one I’ll tell you about it, and you can use it too.”

Cabanela took in her earnest expression and almost wished his monsters were of a more tangible sort. “I’d looove to hear about it,” he announced and was granted a proud grin.

He slid off the counter, followed by Sissel jumping after, and he held out a hand to help Kamila down. “Now it’s time to wash up and get back to beeed or your mother’s gonna be the scary one in the mornin’.”

“Okaaay…” She took his hand and dropped down with another yawn.

He saw her off to bed, nodded with satisfaction at Sissel going with her and then sauntered back downstairs to clean up.

A job well done, Cabanela reflected as he washed the mugs. As to just how well it would all work out remained to be seen, but there was always space for a plan B. If that plan happened to be large and bearded, that too was perfectly acceptable.

When he finally went to meet his bed at last, sleep came readily. The family woke to a bright sunny morning and to Kamila furiously scribbling away on a large piece of paper, stopping now and then to point things out to Cabanela who looked on with a bemused sort of interest. Some things were and would be difficult, but the world was right.


	12. An Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Jowd spills the beans on what happened in a different 10 years

Jowd sat at the table with a half empty and cold mug of coffee at hand. Everything was over and his tale of another ten years was out in the open. Except was it really and truly all over?

It was a long tale that carried them well into the night. Alma had reacted as he expected and better than what he quietly feared. She’d been horrified and sympathetic. Later when it was only the two of them in bed her anger came out and he made the promises he’d already made to himself. He wouldn’t leave Kamila again. He wouldn’t leave their family again. Never again.

She’d questioned him further, needling deeper into things he’d glossed over, painfully extracting the darker aspects he’d tried to avoid. It had helped in a way. A tightness he hadn’t even been aware of faded and they talked quietly until falling asleep in each other’s arms.

Cabanela had been harder to read. He’d sat by, listening, not saying much and if it wasn’t for the intensity of his stare he would have seemed completely relaxed. It was only part way into his explanation that Jowd realized it was much like how he took in the facts of a case during a meeting. He was absorbing and sifting. What it meant for his future he couldn’t say.

Even when it was all over he’d said little. He’d given them both long and tight hugs before they went to bed and that was that. Now Jowd found himself uneasy, waiting for something to simmer over in pointed looks, comments, or something far more explosive. Was he feeling dread or anticipation?

Arms slid around Jowd shoulders, companionably, but he tensed anyway.

“Laaast I checked,” came Cabanela’s low voice, “conditions don’t apply.”

“I…” But ‘why?’ was the question that kept cycling through his mind. After all the lies and time and pain. Cabanela cut him off before he could speak as if reading his mind.

“It’s over, baby. This is what you got.”

Cabanela slipped away and twirled over a chair to face Jowd. He swung into it and sat with arms loosely folded over his chest and ankles crossed. His expression remained mild, but he fixed Jowd to his seat with a stare.

“You liiied,” he continued and the lack of anger hurt more than any yelling. “You kept lyin’ right up to last night. Is that what you need to hear?”

“It wouldn’t be inappropriate,” Jowd replied. He could take the anger. He expected it. This was something else and more difficult to prepare for.

Now a more welcome and bitter edge entered Cabanela’s voice. “And I left you alone for five years.”

“You were working on the case.” Was that what bothered Cabanela here, despite everything he had done?

“And you tried to die,” Cabanela added sharply.

“You had every right to leave me.”

“No, you got lost in the dark. Don’t go slippin’ back there, baby or I’ll be yankin’ you right back ouuut.”

And he would, Jowd knew, without hesitation. He’d already proven that. There was no need for it, but should there be… He met Cabanela’s eyes. No, there was no doubt history would repeat itself there.

“You’re a stubborn man,” he said.

“I’ve got good reasons,” Cabanela replied with a last painfully pointed look at him before he rose from his chair.

He swirled past, lifting Jowd’s cold coffee away as he did so. The coffee was unceremoniously dumped into the sink and replaced with the last of what was left in the pot. Cabanela set to making his tea and Jowd found himself just sitting quietly and watching.

A clear end to the discussion in an act of utter normality. Was it better or worse that they knew now? Did it matter? They got what they wanted regardless of Jowd’s original intentions—typical. He should have known better than to expect anything else from Cabanela certainly. Those five years ought to have taught him that much. The white coat made his own rules and never mind what anyone else thought.

As Cabanela returned, bearing both mugs, and settled with a flourish, Alma entered and he noted the exchanged look between them, a confirmation. So, their partnership hadn’t ended last night.

She declined Cabanela’s offer for tea or coffee with a smile and a tease—“Last I knew I thought the kitchen was mine”—and took up Cabanela’s previous position at Jowd’s shoulders.

Jowd relaxed under her touch. He really wasn’t a match for either of them, he reflected, and that wasn’t such a bad thing.


End file.
